


Cornerstone Needed, Apply Within

by SaltyWords (agent4hire22)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Coda, Dubcon Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Castiel, Post-Episode: s12e03 The Foundry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:42:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8437126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/pseuds/SaltyWords
Summary: “Listen, you know what love is, in my experience?”That was rhetorical. Cas waited.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I noticed there were a ton of 12x03 codas and I was like, "Pfff-yeah I wanna do it too." Here's that.  
> *Edited for content 10/31*
> 
> (Also, umm I'm totally game to do a Part II: The Aftermath if anyone is interested... just sayin.)

Castiel sneered at the empty passenger seat as he threw the old Ford pickup into park. The lingering scent of Crowley was still clouding up the place. He’d even rolled the windows down during the drive, but nothing helped air the King of Hell out of his life.

_I’ll just have to get an air freshener_ , he decided quickly. _In whatever scent Crowley hates most._ It was really the least he could do if he was doomed to _buddy cop_ with a demon for the whole Lucifer hunt.

At least Rowena had snuffed the problem for the present. Cas would take the reprieve happily.

He sighed and slid out of the truck, trudged through the garage and into the warmth of the bunker. Angel or not, the fifteen hour car ride back from Cleveland had him stiff.

  
  


  
  


The rooms were dark. The early hours of the morning had silence laid thick as a blanket on the inside. Just the gentle pinging of the air vents to break the morbid quiet. Cas passed the kitchen and a cast of milky monitor light caught his eye. Dean was plopped at the kitchen table, laptop gleaming his dusky face into the hall, crystal tumbler beside him laughing back the details.

Cas stopped mid stride, backed up and hung in the doorway, trench swinging behind him. The bottle of Johnnie Walker beside the computer was telling secrets; Dean was drinking again. He hadn’t so much as looked sideways at a fifth since his mother had come back, but that bottle was half gone.

Cas diverted into the kitchen, pulled a chair out beside him and plopped down. “Hello, Dean.”

“I thought you were hot on the Devil’s trail,” Dean mumbled barely glancing up. He was reading through some news report on a rash of strange suicides in rural Michigan. Scrolling through a thick block of text like it had the answers to all his problems written between the lines.

“I was, but it’s run cold for now.” Cas said. He squinted, looked through the dark halls. “Where is everyone?”

The muscle at Dean’s jaw jumped. “Sam finally crashed,” he said quietly.

Cas waited, and when he realized Dean was done he asked, “And your mother?” because she’d been crawling the halls at all hours over the past few weeks too.

Dean twisted the tumbler between his fingers, sucked his cheeks between his teeth as he threw it back and drained what was left at the bottom. He tipped the bottle and poured himself another healthy dose. “She left,” he said with a slick liquor growl.

Whiskey was for forgetting.

Cas leaned back in his chair, listened to the old wood groan. “What happened?”

“Turns out she misses her kids.”

“I don’t understand, you are her children.”

“Yeah, not the ones she wants, apparently.” Dean took a chance and met Cas’ eyes. His were glassy. Bloodshot. He’d been crying, maybe just wiped them clean as the bunker door screamed open. Those old hinges. “She misses her _little kids_ , Cas. Her old life. Her, uh, her old family. She doesn’t want anything to do with us now, I guess.”

Cas looked away. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t seen this as a possible outcome, but it didn’t help to point that out now. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he said instead. He watched Dean take it with a tight-lipped grimace.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think she means to hurt you. She’s just searching right now. Trying to find her meaning.” He thought about grabbing Dean’s hand. Didn’t. “She’ll come back. Your family always finds its way back together.”

He gave Dean a soft smile, but it didn’t stick.

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean muttered. “Except I think mostly my family’s just lookin’ for a reason to leave.”

The pit of Cas’ stomach churned, and it wasn’t just because of what he was seeing in Dean’s face now. That ruddy amalgamation of fear and heartbreak that was making Dean stringy. Making his cheeks burn. His skin blotchy. It was because Cas understood the gravity of it. What the whole goddamn situation actually was.

All of Dean’s thoughts and memories, his beliefs, they were decaying. Turning caustic. They were eating him inside out now. And maybe it’d just started as a slow trickle in his brain, judging by those red eyes, it’d just reached his heart. Soon he’d be gone.

He’d just lost the one constant that had kept him going through all the nightmare. His cornerstone. Love for his mother was the thing that’d always managed to get his feet under him again, and that was no small task. Castiel knew it. No one needed to tell him.

“Dean…”

“It’s fine,” Dean said quickly. “It’s… it’s whatever. It ain’t like I don’t get it. I do. I get it.”

“No, it’s not fine,” Cas said suddenly. He broke the barrier and touched Dean’s shoulder. Slipped a hand down his arm, felt the flex of his bicep, held.

“I know it’s not what you’re looking for,” he said earnestly, “but if it helps to know it, you’ll always have me.”

Dean shook his head, eyes closing and bottom lip sucking between his teeth as he tried in vain to bite away a new round of tears, but they made their break. They flooded his cheeks and kicked the laptop light back like displaced stars. His gaze sat heavy on the tabletop, filtered to the keyboard before he finally struggled up and met Cas again.

Those bright greens ate through Cas’ face, stopped at his mouth and sat there. He suddenly pushed his chair out and paced from the table. Just as Cas stood to follow, Dean fell against him, hugged him hard. “Thank you,” he whispered, emotion sweeping his tone away. It took Cas a surprised beat, but he grabbed Dean back, held him tight.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Cas begged, because he fucking _knew Dean._ And what if Cas hadn’t come home? What if Sam had turned a blind eye to deal with his own feelings and Dean had just slipped away at the bottom of that fucking bottle tonight?

_It was possible._

Cas clung. Pulled at the back of Dean’s shirt and held him. His grace grate in his chest and tears filled  his eyes. “You should have called me,” he said again, as Dean buried his face into the crook of his neck.

Dean huffed, snuffed a laugh and thumbed at his wet eyes. “What for?”

“Because this is important. You’re important.”

And suddenly Dean chased him forward, stole a quick, timid kiss. The taste of whiskey was hot on Cas’ lips before he had enough time to register how it got there. By then, Dean was already retreating.

“I’m sorry--”

“Wait.” Cas trailed him, grabbed his arm again. “You’re upset--”

“No, what I am is sorry.”

“Dean--”

“That was--I didn’t mean to do that.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, planted his face in his hands, and Cas was quick to pry them away again. He pulled Dean back, threaded fingers down the back of his neck. Waited for his eyes to settle.

“You’re just upset,” he said again, slower. “And you’re drunk.”

“Yeah…” Dean’s jaw wobbled. That little muscle beside his ear making its debut for the night. “But, what if I wasn’t?”

“What if you weren’t what? Drunk?”

“Yeah.”

Cas squinted. “What if you weren’t drunk, and you kissed me?”

Dean’s throat jumped. “Yeah,” he said meekly.

Castiel’s chest ached. His breath squeezed out. “Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow,” he said after a beat. He combed thumbs over Dean’s cheeks, wiped some tears away, smiled.

“No, I mean it. What would you do if, for once, I wasn’t drunk, and I just--kissed you?” He leaned in, nosed Cas. The sharp bite of whiskey on his breath coiled Cas’ stomach into a tight ball and he shivered.

He pet a line over Dean’s jaw, tracked the stubble and trailed the finger down his neck. “Then, I would be there,” he admitted.

A little smile wracked Dean’s face. The first one of the night. Probably the only one.

He brushed Cas’ mouth again. Fingers threading coy down the length of Cas’ tie. “But, what if for once, I just kissed you anyway?” he asked. This time he didn’t wait for an answer. This time he landed the kiss soft, dragging all the rich whiskey flavor in. The heady musky scent of his cologne. His heat.

Cas let him. Dean teased a tongue and Cas took a needy taste, melted, fingers falling down Dean’s chest and body folding up against him. The sweat Dean had shed earlier in the day was long gone, but the taste of it still clung to his skin. 

Dean’s hands walked inside Cas’ blazer and tread fast up the curve of his back. Cas rashed in goosebumps.

He had to be careful. This was not being careful.

He found his feet again and tugged Dean’s hands out. “You should sleep,” he said. The base in his voice was gone. He was pretty sure Dean had it now. He’d stolen it somehow.

Dean shook his head. “That ain’t happenin’ unless you wanna come with.” He drove another hot kiss into him.

Cas huffed, eyes rolling back as Dean licked that promise in a hot line over the curve of Cas’ neck. Sunk a kiss in there, chasing goosebumps with more.

This was getting away from him.

“Okay, Dean, maybe I should go--”

“No--” Dean snapped up. “Okay. I’m sorry,” he pulled off, hands up, fresh tears dotting his eyes. “I’ll stop. I’m stopping.” His face went into his hands again. “Fuck--I’m sorry. I get it. You wanna go. Go.”

“I don’t want to go.” Cas pried Dean’s hands down again, looked desperately through him. This was thin ice. “Tell me again in the morning,” he said softly. “When I know it’s you talking.”

“This is it, Cas. This is me. I’m talking.”

“You don’t want to do this.”

“Yeah. I do. I’m just always so fuckin’ stupid about it!” he griped, huffed, raked hands over his hair. “Listen, you wanna know what love is, in my experience?”

That was rhetorical. Cas waited.

“Love is something somebody fucking throws at you right before they hurt you with it. That’s what I get. That’s always what I fuckin’ get. And yeah, boo-fuckin’-hoo, I know, but I'm used to it.” His voice cracked, and he was crying again. “God, that’s shitty to say.”

“Dean--”

“No, hang on.” He held a breath, pawed Cas’ chest and straightened his tie. “Now ask me what I hope it is.”

Cas shuffled. “What?”

“You’re the only person who’s never tried to leave me, you know that? I _feel like_ … that’s love.” He poked Cas’ chest. “But I dunno. You gotta tell me, Cas, cuz I don’t…I don’t actually know.”

Cas’ face went hot. He plucked Dean’s hand from his tie. “Of course I love you,” he said, voice gritty. Emotion was working into his throat too.

Dean sobbed, smiled, rushed Cas for another kiss. Soft, but thick with intention.

All the unspoken things twisting at the edge of his lips were screaming now. And maybe it was because he was drunk. Maybe Dean wouldn’t remember it in the morning, or he’d deny it if he did, but in this moment, none of that mattered. He was an open book, and he was begging Cas to read.

So Cas kissed him back. Walked Dean to the edge of the table and sat him on it. Grabbed his face and nipped his lips. “Okay,” he caved, “I hear you.” _I understand._

_You need it._

But maybe that was the lie Cas wanted to buy, because without it, this was greedy and it was wrong. He did it anyway. He hoarded Dean’s huffs in his memory, and tasted the cracked urgency in the room. Something that tasted like tears, and years, and tightrope-walking. He felt Dean’s body respond to his touch. The way he leaned back to let Cas in, rubbed against him, eyes heavy and tongue thick, just begging for more.

For everything.

Cas wanted to give it. He pulled Dean’s belt, got hands under his shirt. Skirted his hot skin.

“Yes--” Dean moaned, and--

_Fuck._ Cas screamed at himself, dropped to a knee and cursed his unsteady stomach. He looked up at Dean. Slid hands down his thighs and rest them at his knees, and waited. He tried to absorb it. The realization that this opportunity was going to go away as soon as the sun broke the horizon wasn’t lost on him, but it wasn’t his to have. It was only a peek through Dean’s cracks, not a door.

Those vents pinging in the background had nothing on the sound of Cas’ racing heart. “I can’t do this tonight,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. Ask me again tomorrow.”

Dean pat his cheek, leaned over and stole a kiss from his temple. “Yeah, okay,” he whispered. “No, it’s okay.”

“You should sleep.”

“With you?”

Cas slipped a shy smile. “No, I said _sleep._ ”

“Yeah, sleep,” Dean smiled back. “You can be the big spoon.”

It was clear Dean wasn’t going to let Cas leave him alone, and the situation was just getting stickier, but Dean smiled. He was going to be okay.

As long as Cas stayed, he’d be okay.

Cas wasn’t sure he could say the same for himself, but only the morning had those answers.

He’d stay either way.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anyone subscribed to this fic who wants to read the rest:  
> Part II was published separately. Follow the link below to read!

Part II:

[Five O'Clock Shadows](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8642776)

It’s just, Cas had come home and said all the wonderful fucking things Dean always needed to hear, and Dean didn’t have a wall for any of it to bounce off of. Those earnest, blue eyes so necessarily digging claim into the center of his heart. From the moment Cas plopped onto the chair beside him, Dean never stood a chance. He was a fucking sucker for the guy. Always had been, and it'd hardly been the appropriate time to test his resolve.  
And sure, maybe it’d started as a moment of weakness, or another one of Dean’s self-destructive attempts at imminent demise, as soon as Cas caught the hook and held it, the game changed.

  
For good.

 

**Author's Note:**

> winchester-reload on tumblr


End file.
